Sky & Microscope
by Moonstarer
Summary: It's the kind of case Gil Grissom once relished, but with his growing hearing loss he has more to worry about than just dealing with multiple suspects and a virtually unreachable body.  A case file set during season 3. STORY SUSPENDED, sorry.
1. Prologue

**Sky & Microscope**

Disclaimer: Unfortunately nobody dropped the rights to CSI: Crime Scene Investigation into my post box while I was away, but it is my birthday today...

**A/N**: Well I'm finally back. Thanks for your patience while I took a break to concentrate on my studies, I hope at least some of them will have helped improve my writing.

I had written a long author's note discussing why the reasons I've seen some writers giving for their withdrawal from CSI: LV fan fiction are actually reasons why they should be writing more, but then I realised that you can't just talk someone into being inspired.

For me the joy of fan fiction is that if my favourite characters (or even whole shows) disappear or change direction, I can use my imagination to go back to when I enjoyed watching the most. That's why I'm setting this particular story near the beginning of Season 3, just after "A Little Murder", at a time when detectives were detectives, criminalists were criminalists and Grissom was, well, Grissom.

This time I hope to be rather less cruel to my favourite CSI, except for the fact that at this point he's losing his hearing, of course; and hopefully, like a proper CSI episode, it will be the case that is the centrepiece. Only you guys can tell me if I'm succeeding with this multi-chapter WIP and for that to happen I suppose I'd better shut up and give you something to read and comment on, hadn't I?

**Prologue**

Gil Grissom sighed deeply, he'd never been a fan of paperwork in the past and still wasn't, but now he found himself actively choosing it over going out in the field and doing what he really loved about being a CSI. Tonight he'd achieved his goal of sending every member of his team out of the lab and busy with cases that should keep their attention away from the mystery of their leader's increasingly odd, irascible and reclusive behaviour. He'd pay for it tomorrow when they began processing their discoveries, demanding his advice, needing him to sign off on urgent paperwork, but maybe tomorrow would be one of his 'good' days, hearing wise. For tonight, though, he'd retreated into his office and the papers he had heaped around him were his defence from intrusion by the lab rats and others wandering the corridors. All that any potential visitor to the room would see would be the top of a head of greying curls bent over multiple piles of forms and hopefully they'd be deterred from interrupting him. Unfortunately there was one flaw with the plan; he was already bored. Shuffling some of the papers around him in the hope of finding an interesting case file to review before passing it on to the DA's office, Grissom's heart dropped still further as he came across the application forms for the soon to be vacant post of Graveyard's trace technician. He hated being involved in the recruitment process at the best of times because it involved dealing with people instead of evidence, but since his hearing had become so erratic the idea of telephone interviews and calls to check references made him almost nauseous. His first inclination was to try and fob the task off to Catherine, but even Grissom could pick up the signals when she was coming to the end of her tether, plus she had been testing his leadership already lately and giving her the power to hire a new member of staff would only make the situation worse. No, he'd have to tackle the job sooner or later, but at least one of the perks of the night shift was the excuse that most of the people he should be phoning wouldn't appreciate a call at two in the morning. He'd have to make the interview calls from home during more 'civilized' hours and maybe Human Resources would take on the task of reference checking if they realised that they'd be saving themselves from paying him overtime. Having made his plan, Grissom leaned down and opened one of his desk drawers. Rooting around to locate an additional cardboard file cover that he could put copies of the forms into to be passed back to HR, his fingers paused briefly on a file he'd placed there earlier that night, hoping that the official cover would disguise nature of the contents, which were distinctly personal to him.

Coming back upright, Grissom suddenly realised that he was no longer alone. He half left his chair then settled again and quickly slammed his desk drawer shut, almost trapping his fingers. Even though anyone on the other side of the desk would have needed x-ray vision to see what was in there, Grissom was acutely aware of the hidden folder. It had been a calculated risk bringing the paperwork relating to his otology appointments into work, but he'd decided that the danger of his colleagues finding them was far less than that from his inquisitive Mother discovering them while she was looking for something to amuse herself when he was working or sleeping during her imminent visit. Now he had another reason to curse Philip Gerard; until he'd mentioned his former mentor's visit to Betty, his mother had been happy to let him come to visit her, but now she'd been prompted to leave her Marina Del Rey home and travel to see him in Las Vegas. She was due to arrive the afternoon after next and Grissom was deeply afraid that, one way or another, the secret of his failing hearing would be exposed, to her, or his colleagues, or everyone.

"Well, it looks like you could do with a break."

The fact that Grissom only caught the last half of Jim Brass' sentence clearly explained how the Detective Captain had managed to startle him, but at least it was enough for him to understand what his friend was saying and to shrug as if he'd been too engrossed in his work to notice that Jim was there. It was easy to pass a hand over his eyes and stretch as if exhausted and then nod his head in tacit agreement that a break would be very welcome right then.

"Well my timing's good then. I'm told you've been far too morose and miserable lately so get your stuff together, I'm taking you to a party."

Grissom, who had been looking down at his desk seeking an excuse if he needed to fob Brass off, looked up, his blue eyes startled.

"A party, no, no, I..."

"Relax, Gil, you'll like this party, it's the sort you actually enjoy. One of the guests just turned up dead."

T.B.C.


	2. Chapter 1

**Sky & Microscope**

Disclaimer: CSI: Crime Scene Investigation belongs to someone else entirely.

**A/N** I may have been a little imaginative when it comes to geography/geology in this story, please forgive me.

A big thank you to everyone who wrote reviews of the prologue, they were much appreciated. I think I've managed to reply to you all individually but considering the large percentage of you who asked about Sara/GSR I've decided to put a comment here as well. As I said in my previous note, this story is set in Season 3 just after the episode _A Little Murder_, at that point Sara was dating Hank Peddigrew and, while GSR was there, it was very much a background note. It will be in this story too. Sara will be here, as will most of the other regulars of that time, but the story will be centred on Grissom, the investigation, his impending deafness and his relationship with his mother. I think that's more than enough to try and fit in, isn't it?

Finally, happy birthday to SylvieT, I hope your busy week is going well.

**Chapter 1**

"OK," said Grissom slowly, part of his brain still scrambling around for a get out clause, "apart from that there's a DB involved, what else do we know about this 'party'?"

"Actually, that's about it at this point apart from that the 911 caller gave an approximate location in the desert north-west of Vegas, but a party and a DB were definitely both mentioned." Brass attempted to fill his friend in as Grissom heaved himself upright and began to gather his gear. "Going by the location though it's probably some kids who had some moderately illegal party activities in mind and chose to do it in the no-man's land where city cops rarely visit but outside the area of the State Parks' law enforcement. Of course with this call it sounds as if 'moderately' illegal just got a whole lot more serious."

Grissom grunted a vague acknowledgement, in his experience 'moderate' drink and drugs abuse almost inevitably did lead to something more serious, although that might have been because when he got to hear about those things he was usually there to help deal with the unpleasant after-effects.

"Anyway," Brass continued, as the two men began to walk together towards the parking lot, "a couple of uniforms are headed there to check things out and secure the scene, if there is one, but considering the distance we may as well start rolling, we can always turn around if the call was really a false alarm."

"OK," Grissom acknowledged the sense in that suggestion, "but how come you came directly to me instead of requesting CSI through despatch as normal? And don't say it's because you specifically wanted my scintillating company," he added quickly when he saw Brass' mouth opened ready to offer one of his usual glib replies, "considering you just described me as 'morose and miserable', I won't believe you."

Brass shrugged his sport coat covered shoulders; he'd hoped to have his victim secured without an easy escape route before admitting to an ulterior motive.

"I'd called in at lab reception with some paperwork when the call came in. I could see from the whiteboard there that you were the only CSI not listed as out and I figured that the two of us on a road trip might be fun."

Grissom raised an expressive eyebrow in response.

"OK, maybe not fun, but a chance to catch up, I really have been hearing that kind of stuff about you recently and you were never so closed off when I was your boss. You've changed and I intend to figure out why."

Grissom mentally swore to himself, this was the last thing he needed right now.

"You're sure you don't want to travel in your own vehicle?" he asked, hopefully.

"Nope, like I said, scene's out in the desert, it would play hell with my sedan's suspension, your SUV will cope so much better." Brass grinned, knowing he'd just out logicked the master.

Grissom grimaced and stomped on towards the CSI vehicles, now that he knew Brass' intentions his hope that one of his team would call in allowing him to pass the case on was dashed, Jim would know for sure he was trying to avoid the upcoming conversation.

"We'll need to make sure we have plenty of water, it may be night now, but who knows how long we could be stuck out there," was his way of acknowledging that the detective had won and that the two of them would be travelling together.

When Grissom was finally satisfied that there were sufficient supplies of food, water and forensics gear to be sure they wouldn't be stuck out in the desert missing something vital to life or the investigation, the pair finally set off, Grissom at the wheel and Brass in the shotgun position. As soon as they were on the road and heading north Grissom switched on the radio. He normally preferred shotgun himself, so that he could listen with his eyes as well as his ears, but Brass had pleaded unfamiliarity with the large vehicle. Reluctantly he tuned to a station playing unobtrusive background music and dropped the volume to a level which would allow conversation. Having some kind of continuous background sound would make it easier for him to notice if his hearing faded again, but if Brass thought he was using the noise to avoid talking to him, Grissom knew that the detective would simply turn the radio off altogether.

It was fortunate that Grissom did know that his hearing wasn't at fault, because they travelled for what felt like a very long time without Brass speaking at all. Maybe Jim was hoping that Gil would choose to cover the long silence with his own admission to what his problem was, or maybe he was just considering which of his interrogation techniques he could successfully use on his notoriously unforthcoming friend and still maintain an amicable relationship afterwards. Grissom was frustrated that this should be happening at all, since the wonderful team feeling that he'd felt after they'd successfully out argued his former mentor at Tom Haviland's pre-trial hearing he'd made a real effort to take Catherine's lecture on leadership to heart and be a fully participating team member again, only to have to withdraw in the last couple of days because his hearing was going through a particularly erratic patch and he wasn't sure he could cover the problem successfully in the field.

Grissom's annoyance at the unfairness of it all meant that, if Jim was waiting for him to relax at the wheel before starting to speak, the long wait actually had the opposite effect, so when the detective actually did begin to edge gently into the difficult conversation it wasn't long before his friend snapped.

"Come on, Jim, give me a break, you know what this job can get like sometimes. You had your fair share of bad days too, plenty of times when I had team members come to me saying you were full of something - and it wasn't the joys of spring."

"Yeah, sure, I was a real grouch, I still can be, it's part of my 'hard-nosed cop' persona. You, on the other hand, have always been a pretty laid back kind of guy, except when it comes to the stuff you're really passionate about; and what you're passionate about is forensics and using it to find the truth. So when I hear you've suddenly started leading your team from the rear I worry, OK? And you snapping my head off for asking about it isn't making me feel any less concerned."

"Yeah, sorry about that Jim," Grissom concentrated on the road ahead, driving with both hands firmly on the wheel, hoping he could disguise any tells that the detective might be looking for. After a moment to compose himself a little and think out a more reasonable response he decided that he needed to give Jim something or face being pressed all the way to the crime scene and probably home afterwards as well.

"Look, Jim, you know I like to keep my private life to myself and I admit that it's personal stuff that's been affecting my work, I know I shouldn't let it, but it has this time, but I'm sure you understand why I haven't wanted to give that excuse to everyone who asks." Grissom mentally crossed his fingers, he was relying on the pact between men of his and Jim's generation that the word 'personal' was a big red 'don't go there' sign to protect him.

Brass remained silent; Grissom could tell he was thinking, deciding whether or not to press for more details, so he decided to keep the initiative by offering some information which he wouldn't normally have shared, hoping it would be enough to hide the thing he didn't dare disclose.

"My Mother's coming to stay for a few days," he said , hoping that Brass' informant hadn't told him quite how long he'd been off his game, "once that's over I'll really make an effort to get back on track." _Once_ _that's over I may not have much left to worry about as far as my job's concerned_, was what he was thinking.

"And what about the case we're heading to now?"

"Paperwork may not have been getting my full attention recently, but the evidence always does." _When I let myself get anywhere near it, that is_.

Out of the corner of his eye he could see Brass nodding.

"And Jim, tell Catherine I appreciate that she went to my former boss on this one, not my current one"

"Actually Catherine didn't just speak to your former boss," Jim acknowledged the correctness of Grissom's educated guess but also gave him a chill of worry before continuing, "she spoke to me as your friend as well. I guess she figured a man to man talk might solve the situation. Look, Gil, I know you're a private man, so I won't pry any further, but anytime you feel the need call me and we'll get together, drink a few beers, grouch about life, Mom's and anything else and, like proper gentlemen, in the morning we'll pretend it never happened. Deal?"

"Deal."

Silence fell; they were beyond the city limits now and heading up towards the mountains. The soft sounds of the radio and the hum of the SUV's engine combined with the uninteresting view of the road ahead to produce a calming atmosphere allowing the two men to resume their usual quietly stable relationship.

Several minutes passed and Grissom was getting to the point where he needed to know more about his destination than simply north-west of Vegas when the police radio on the dash finally came to life, the regular radio automatically fading out in deference to its importance.

Listening just long enough to hear the 419 confirmed and get a more accurate fix on where he was supposed to be headed, Grissom concentrated on driving and left it to Brass as to make notes and make a couple of his own radio calls for extra uniforms and detective support based on the report of the officer at the scene. He'd make his own decision on CSI back-up when he'd seen the location for himself, just because Brass had plenty of living humans to cope with didn't mean that the actual crime scene would be more than one man could cope with. Even if it was, the specific situation would dictate not only how many CSIs would be needed, but also who it would be most useful to call upon for help.

"Did you catch all that?" Jim asked, once he was done with the radio.

"Enough. We're pretty much there now anyway."

Jim peered into the darkness ahead, archetypal red rock formations were just visible ahead as Grissom slowed and changed to four wheel drive as he left the road at a point marked by a solitary LVPD traffic cone, clearly with only one patrol car on scene so far, there was no one yet available to personally direct them towards what was now probably a very sombre party.

"Pretty bleak, weird place to pick for something they decided to call a 'star party'," Brass commented, referring to what had been reported over the police radio, "can't see many 'stars' bothering to come all the way out here."

"The greatest stars in Las Vegas can't be seen on the strip," said Grissom, who actually found the landscape rather majestic. Catching Jim's blank look from the corner of his eye he gestured upwards. "A Star Party is a gathering of amateur astronomers so they can observe and socialise together, sometimes they're just a local group out for a night but they can get as big as some of the conventions we get in town with stuff for sale and talks from various experts. From what we've heard so far this one's on the small side of medium."

"So, it turns out I was right," Brass smiled triumphantly as Grissom manoeuvred the truck to a stop beside a patrol car. "This is exactly your kind of party."

"God, no." Grissom's response was abrupt and definite. "For me astronomy is about the open spaces, just me, insignificant under all that sky, in the middle of all that silence." _Silence_. Grissom put the vehicle in park, yanked the handbrake into position and was out of the vehicle headed towards the doors at the rear almost before Jim could react. The detective shrugged, putting down the rapid exit to Gil's discomfort at revealing something so personal; perhaps the involuntary revelation had been a side effect of their previous conversation. The detective opened the passenger side door and left the SUV at his own, more leisurely, pace.

"Captain Brass, Supervisor Grissom?" A uniformed officer in his mid twenties approached the two men as they rejoined each other in front of the CSI van. Wells, as his name badge declared him to be was tall and looked like he still had some filling out to do and had an anxious air about him although Grissom suspected that the latter was down to this being the first major crime scene that he'd had to play such a significant role in. It probably didn't help that he was clearly very aware of the seniority of the men in front of him and maybe a bit intimidated by them.

"OK, son, the cavalry's here now and more are on the way. You and your partner are still the first guys on scene though, so make sure you keep up the good work and set up a formal check in point as soon as you can, OK." Brass smiled reassuringly at the young man, making sure he was aware of his duties and that he was no longer expected to hold the fort on his own.

"The boy over there discovered the body; I've tried to keep him apart from the others and asked the friends who were with him not to discuss what they saw."

"And who is this guy?" Jim asked, indicating a studious looking man of about forty who was rapidly approaching them.

"The organiser, apparently he's also deputy chair of Summerlin Astronomy Circle. He was the one who hiked out of here to get cell phone reception and call 911. He tells me he's very keen to help, but wants to talk with someone 'in charge' as soon as possible."

"Well, that would be me. Let's see what he has to say and then give him something 'useful' to do."

Grissom waited while Wells introduced the man to them to Richard Bryson, nodding politely while he took in the man's black wire framed glasses and black 'Astronomers Do It In The Dark' t-shirt worn under a padded jacket to protect against the cold of an October night in the desert, before looking at Wells hopefully, slightly raising his metal forensics toolbox and asking, "Crime Scene?"

"Oh sorry, Sir, I wasn't sure if you'd want to hear what the witnesses have to say first. It's just up there a ways," Wells said, pointing. "The coroner's team have gone on to meet my partner there already, his van's narrower than yours so I suggested he drive a little closer, although things close in pretty fast. Just wait to you see where the body is."

The officer's last words trailed off, as if he'd been trying to make a joke but had suddenly realised that joking about a body's location might be frowned upon by the senior CSI. It didn't matter though because Grissom, apparently no longer listening, was already heading in the direction indicated and trying to work out if the tyre tracks of the coroner's department vehicle would have done more or less damage to his crime scene than having the team and a gurney go through on foot.

Wells had been right about things getting narrower. Grissom was barely a hundred yards round the bend of the track when he came across the black van which had stopped while there were still a few feet of clearance for people to walk around it. Two men in coroner's department jackets and baseball caps were leaning against the vehicle waiting while, illuminated by the van's headlamps in what was rapidly becoming a narrow ravine, David Phillips could be seen looking worried and fiddling with his cell phone.

"Problem, David?"

"Oh, Grissom, hi. No signal," David told him lifting his hand with the phone in it, "I was hoping I might be able to get a call through to Doc Robbins, I think I'm going to need his advice on this one."

"Really?" Grissom knew David was sometimes lacking in confidence; he looked around to try and see what the problem might be, between his years as a CSI and in a coroner's office before that he had plenty of the experience that David still lacked, maybe he could find an answer to whatever the coroner's assistant was concerned about.

No sign of a body, but then Grissom spotted Wells' partner, leaning against the sandstone rock of the valley wall. The rock around the man appeared almost blood red in the low light, except for a gash of black not much wider than the officer himself, just to the man's left. Now Gil was beginning to understand the problem.

"I take it she's in there."

Wells' partner pushed himself away from the wall. Older, wider and presumably more experienced than his partner he'd somehow decided he would be of more use guarding the one member of the group who wasn't going anywhere instead of putting his skills to use managing the large group of possible witnesses. Grissom wasn't into judging people, but he had a fair idea he wasn't going to like this guy.

"Liam Thomas." The man offered his hand. Grissom shook it politely. "Jane Doe's in there all right, about six feet in and three or four up. Lord knows how she wound up dead in that position, and I'm guessing He's the only one who knows how you guys are going to get her out of there too."


	3. Chapter 2

**Sky & Microscope**

Disclaimer: CSI: Crime Scene Investigation belongs to someone else entirely.

**Chapter 2**

Officer Thomas looked Grissom up and down. The CSI had an uncomfortable feeling that he was being measured against the size of the space he was going to have to work in and found lacking. Between the extra time behind his desk and the convenience food he was eating because he was so tired from compensating for his hearing issues in a way that his colleagues wouldn't notice that he couldn't be bothered to cook for himself after his shift, Grissom knew he'd filled out recently, but this was the first time it had really been brought home to him how much.

"Have you been in yet?" Grissom asked David, putting off the moment when he'd have to venture through the narrow entrance himself.

"Yeah, it kind of opens out a bit once you're in until it's about the size of an average walk-in closet but the lady has gotten herself caught in a very tight space; I could only get access to the left side of her body without disturbing anything, so I don't know how easy she'll be to move. I came away then, after I was certain that life was extinct."

Grissom noted that David was also suspicious about Thomas and his willingness to put any effort into doing his job properly, including bothering to check that their corpse actually was one.

"OK. I'll go in and get some shots of her in situ and then we'll discuss our strategy for moving her. So, what's the established approach route?"

The question was aimed at Thomas, but the cop just shrugged. "I figured that in such a tight space it wasn't worth setting anything up."

Grissom stifled a sigh, if Thomas wasn't downright incompetent he was definitely lazy, no wonder his partner was looking so harassed.

"I tried to keep as close to the left-hand wall as I could," offered David, looking a little nervous at contradicting the police officer but clearly wanting Grissom to know that he still respected procedure. Grissom nodded, giving the coroner's assistant what he hoped was an encouraging smile; sometimes Philips reminded him of himself at a similar stage in his career.

Realising that there was no delaying things any longer, and aware that Brass would be waiting for him to confirm whether the death looked suspicious before he could take his interviews beyond identifying the deceased and trying to establish if anyone had noticed if she seemed ill or depressed or was acting strangely in some other way prior to her death, Grissom prepared to begin his own part of the investigation.

Reluctantly he shrugged out of the warm jacket he was wearing to give himself more room in the confined space. His 'box of tricks' would have to stay outside too, at least until he knew if there was enough floor space to put things down without disturbing any potential evidence. All he would take in for now was his most powerful torch and a camera.

Once he had the items he needed, Grissom gloved up and approached the dark gash in the rock wall of the canyon. To Thomas' amusement he turned sideways to go through, although Grissom was doing it in the hope that, if there was foul play involved, the perp might have brushed against the sides of the narrow gap and left a little something of him- or herself behind, provided no-one else had brushed it off in the meantime, of course.

Grissom entered the blackness of the chamber with a smile on his face as he considered making Thomas strip and impounding his uniform jacket and pants so they could be checked for transfer from when he'd entered the cave. Flicking on his flashlight he moved it close to the floor, the rest of the chamber could wait, first he would use the oblique angle of the light beam to show up any scuff marks or footprints left by previous visitors, so he could decide where it was safest to place his own feet. It was immediately clear that several people at least had been in the area either before or after the dead woman and Thomas was probably right that little useful information could be gleaned from the confused mess. The only thing Grissom felt reasonably sure of was that a body hadn't been dragged in here, that would have left a pretty deep track from the doorway to the final resting place and it was unlikely that those would have been completely obliterated by later footprints unless a whole herd of looky-lous turned up after the body was discovered, so this was either the scene of death or they were facing a perp who was organised and aware enough to clean up after himself. Even though it was probably pointless, Grissom still tried to keep to David Phillips' unofficial access path, who knew what unknown traces might be revealed once more powerful lighting was introduced. Only now that Grissom knew where he was placing his feet did he raise the flash and allow it to play over the orange-red sandstone of the cave walls.

Except, he realised now, it wasn't a cave. Looking up, Grissom could see a narrow strip of deeper black high above him and, when he flicked his flashlight off briefly, one or two stars confirmed that it opened up to the sky. Grissom estimated that the walls of what he now recognised as a slot canyon were about fifteen feet high, and maybe three feet apart at the point he was looking at but growing narrower. Thankful that at his level it was about twice as wide, Grissom marvelled at what water and time had conspired together to create, as well as making a mental note to set up a watching brief on the weather until the scene was fully cleared, it was getting late in the year for flash floods, but then they weren't called 'flash' for nothing.

Flicking the flashlight's beam down and around the walls of the chamber to get a sense of the space and to find where the body was located, Grissom finally caught a glimpse of golden hair, blue denim and white flesh in the small circle of illumination. As he edged closer, almost, but very carefully not quite, brushing the wall with one shoulder, the profile of a woman in her late twenties was partly revealed. Her left arm was raised above her head, partially obscuring her face, but Grissom could see that her chin was tilted upwards, as if her final action had been to seek one last glimpse of the stars above her.

Setting the camera's flash to fill in some of the many deep shadows, Grissom fired off a few shots to establish the body's position before moving in closer still. As Thomas had told him the woman was wedged in a few feet above floor level, so the CSI had to tilt his head up to see her properly, perhaps he should have brought his kit in with him so he could have something to stand on. At least now, though, he could see why her arm was still raised, there simply hadn't been room for it to fall out of that position. Between the arm's position and her elevation it looked like the woman had been climbing when she died, but was she going up or coming down? Grissom wondered.

Careful not to touch the corpse until David had come back in to clear it, Grissom fired off several close up shots before putting on his glasses and swapping to his pen light with its narrow beam that was more useful for a closer visual examination.

The fact that the woman's arms were bare set Grissom thinking. Either this was someone who'd been completely unprepared for how cold the desert could get at night at this time of year, or she'd been here since before sunset, or she'd had a jacket or coat and it had been removed for the same reasons he'd shed his own outer layer of clothing. The thought made him shiver, until he'd considered the woman's state of dress it he'd been distracted enough by his work not to notice how chilled he himself was getting. Grissom pushed away the physical discomfort, he'd be able to warm up again soon enough, and this woman needed him right now. Continuing to scan down her legs Grissom ruled out his 'unprepared' theory, the jeans were sturdy as much as fashionable and she was wearing walking boots with enough wear to show they hadn't been bought specially for this particular trip. Grissom could only see a limited amount of her clothing, but nothing leapt out at him; a couple of small tears, wear and some ground in red dust on the knee nearest him which was probably duplicated on the other pant leg too. The skin of the left arm told the same story; scratches, abrasions and dust but nothing major or remarkable, considering her present position. There was no obvious blood pool below her either, but the rock may have absorbed or redirected any fluids. Grissom's torch did get reflected back from something wet on the ground a little way beyond the woman where the canyon continued even more narrowly, but it was too dark to see if it was bodily fluids or just water left from a rainstorm and protected from evaporation in a place where sunlight never reached. Tilting his torch back upwards, Grissom could make out a darkened patch that could be a bruise or a bloodied scrape on the woman's cheek, but wasn't able to see clearly enough from his angle to be certain what it was. Still, that wouldn't be a problem once she was on a slab in the morgue.

Speaking of which, it was probably about time to get David back in there. Raising the camera above his head, Grissom flashed a few more shots, hoping at least one or two would give a good idea of the corpse's position, and then slid carefully out through the narrow entranceway.

As Grissom emerged, blinking to help his eyes readjust to the comparatively bright light produced by the Coroner's van headlamps, he could see the relief on David's face at having some less hostile company.

"OK, David, you can head back in and see if you can establish a rough time of death. I'm going to see what I can do to preserve any evidence immediately around this entrance so that it will be one less thing for you and your team to worry about when she comes out. Until then, if you could avoid touching the sides?"

"Sure Grissom," David agreed amicably, picking up his own small bag of gear and entering the gloom again, a brief flash as he went showing that the Coroner's assistant had lit his own flashlight. Ignoring Thomas' presence, Grissom set about his own task, first with a close visual examination using an illuminated magnifying glass that revealed one or two bits of fluff that could have been rubbed off someone's clothing, these were marked and photographed before being removed and placed in separate labelled bindles. The examination also told Grissom that the sandstone was too rough and porous to have recorded any useable prints, so he didn't bother to start dusting and instead produced a UV torch to see what popped up. Acknowledging Thomas for the first time he asked the officer to go over and ask David's team to kill the van lights for a couple of minutes. Once everywhere was as dark as possible considering the Moon was full that night, Grissom could see some dimly glowing spots, visible only because the rock face was in shadow. Again Grissom marked the spots and photographed them before taking swabs which would hopefully identify their nature. As he was finishing up he heard David's voice echoing through the doorway.

"Hold on David, I'm coming in."

Grissom closed his kit up and went to join David, carrying the large box with him.

"So, what have you got?" Grissom asked. There was just enough room for the two of them to stand side by side looking up at Jane Doe. Grissom could see a small circle of blood that hadn't been there before from where David had inserted the probe to take the woman's liver temperature. That would be the clearest guide to her TOD until Doc autopsied her, but David would also have checked rigor and lividity for confirmation.

"Well it's a little confusing," David began, hesitantly, "but her temperature and what I was able to see of her lividity pretty much agree that she's been dead around three to four hours. From what I could see the lividity also indicates she's been roughly in this position ever since."

Grissom checked his watch; that made time of death around midnight. Rigor would be starting to get a grip on the woman's muscles already, but it would have started with her smaller muscles first, so they should still have a window in which to move her if a safe method could be figured out. Except David had found some of the TOD indicators confusing and picked the more reliable temperature and lividity to base his estimate on.

"So, what's odd about the progression of rigor?"

David turned and looked at him as though he'd inferred something difficult, the flashlight glinting off his glasses briefly before he looked back at Jane Doe and answered.

"Well, by now rigor should only be around half fixed, probably less considering it's so cold, so her larger arm muscles and her legs should still be pretty pliable, but they're not. I was trying to get hold of Doc earlier to get his advice on getting her out when we can only reach one side of her, but now it seems she's pretty much locked in place too."

Grissom considered for a few moments, scanning the torch up and down and checking the places where the body was most tightly locked in. There clearly wasn't enough room to reach around and unlock the rigor by massaging and flexing and, even if she could be somehow manoeuvred out while still stiff, doing so would add a whole lot more abrasions to her clothes and body confusing the picture hopelessly. He took a deep breath, he was about to force the timid man beside him to make a difficult ethical decision.

"You're the Coroner's representative, David, I can offer my advice but you're going to have to be the one to call it, and one option you might want to consider is leaving her there until the rigor has worked its way through."

**A/N.** I apologise for the long delay, I guess I'm not quite back into my writing routine, plus a lot of the thinking I had to do for this chapter should have been done before I even started to write, but I got caught up in the idea of posting the prologue on my birthday and planning went by the wayside!

Also an apology to the Las Vegas Astronomical Society, I meant to say in my previous A/N that Grissom's "not all the stars in Vegas..." comment was pinched from their website but that that will be the only connection between this story and any real amateur astronomers who operate in southern Nevada, or anywhere else for that matter.


	4. Chapter 3

**Sky & Microscope**

Disclaimer: CSI: Crime Scene Investigation belongs to someone else entirely; I just wish they'd remember what they used to do with it.

**A/N** Thanks to everyone who has reviewed and encouraged me so far and also to those who have set up story and author alerts; they're probably the best way to keep track of my so far erratic posting schedule and can be set up on their own or (preferably) at the same time as leaving a review. ;-)

**Chapter 3**

This time it was sound, not silence that warned Grissom that his hearing was letting him down again. As he walked back down the canyon with a large evidence bag clutched in his hand he began to hear a continuous high pitched whistle in one ear. While he could still just about make out the sound of his own footsteps on the gritty ground in the other ear, the ear which was affected was picking up nothing except the annoying squeal. Grissom changed direction slightly so that now he was heading towards the CSI van instead of directly on to speak to Brass; dropping off his evidence might buy him enough time for his hearing to return to normal.

Just as he got to the vehicle the whistle began to slowly fade out signalling the approaching end of the thankfully brief episode, and the first of three patrol cars pulled into what looked like it was about to become the designated police parking area. Grissom was relieved to see that at least some of the officers arriving were familiar from previous crime scenes. His relief at seeing men and women who could be trusted with a potential murder scene overcame his caution regarding his hearing problems and, unconsciously pulling at his earlobe as if that would cause his ear to 'pop' the rest of the way back to normality, he hurried over to where he could see Officer Mitchell exiting his car. Almost before the various police men and women were ready to listen he'd assigned Mitchell to 'assist' Thomas in looking after the body's location and tasked Mitchell's partner and two other officers to assist with taking some lighting to the location before the battery of the Coroner's van gave out from keeping the headlamps going.

"Get Mr. Phillips' team to help you set up the lights, Mitch," Grissom went on, "I want you other guys to see if there's a way onto the ridge behind that canyon entrance, I need to know if there are any other ways to get into that space. If you find any treat them as potential crime scenes, don't go any closer than you have to and make sure no-one else does either, understand?"

The officers assented and headed off, just as Jim Brass arrived to find out what was keeping his reinforcements.

"I know that securing the crime scene is important, Gil, but did you have to co-opt nearly all my men?"

Grissom's hearing was practically normal now, but he wasn't absolutely sure about the nuances which would have told him if Jim was joking or genuinely annoyed.

"Sorry, Jim, I..." He began to apologise, choosing to err on the safe side.

"Don't worry about it Gil," Brass stopped him, dropping the pretence of irritation, "I was just on the radio and there's another squad car about five minutes away and Lockwood and Vega are about ten minutes behind them, I'm sure I can manage with the two guys you've left me until they arrive."

"Well, now that I've sent Mitch over there you're welcome to Officer Thomas' help."

Jim grinned, he was better at reading Grissom than most. "Like that is it?" he asked, rhetorically, "Well, I suppose I could do with someone back down by the road to point people in the right direction now more people are arriving out here. Leave it with me."

After briefing his remaining troops and radioing Thomas his new instructions, Brass returned his attention to Grissom, who was now stowing the evidence he'd collected so far securely in the back of the CSI SUV.

"So, can I take it that the need for extra manpower means that you think this really is a crime scene?

"Well, I haven't decided that it isn't." Grissom's response was cautious. Our dead woman's age and apparent physical state make natural causes less likely but not impossible, of course, and so far I've seen nothing to indicate an accident, her present position isn't one that she could have just fallen into, she either died in that position or was very carefully posed." Grissom stopped, sometimes the process of briefing another person triggered off a chain of thought causing him to consider new possibilities.

"So we need to push for a fast autopsy so we know exactly what kind of investigation this is." Jim was frowning, he liked to get his teeth into an enquiry instead of tiptoeing around waiting for someone to confirm whether they were actually working a homicide or not.

Grissom rubbed his nose, not wanting to break the news of the probable change from normal procedure to Jim. He'd left David to accurately record exactly how rigor was progressing in Jane Doe's body. The very inconsistencies that made rigor less precise than the other methods David had used to get an estimated time of death might be very useful when it came to reconstructing Jane's last movements. In return Grissom had agreed to explain the situation to Brass and find out if the dead woman had been identified and if there were any friends or relatives around who should be consulted about their feelings.

"Actually, Jim, we might have to wait a little longer than usual before we get to the autopsy stage. Unless you've found me some next-of-kin who object strongly then, in the interests of preserving potential evidence, I'm recommending that the body not be moved for the next day or two until she's out of rigor."

Brass raised an eyebrow but didn't demand more explanation, one thing he'd learnt in his time as Grissom's boss was that if Grissom new far more about forensics than he ever could or wanted to and if he recommended a course of action then the reasons behind it would be sounder than any counter arguments that the detective would be able to come up with.

"I won't deny that that complicates things for me, but if you really think that's necessary." Grissom nodded. "As for next-of-kin, it turns out that the kid who found her body is also her nephew."

"So, what do you think of him, is he likely to co-operate?"

Jim shrugged in response. "I haven't actually spoken to the kid yet. Our organiser, Mr. Bryson, took the job of briefing me _very_ seriously and I only just got him to shut up and go and find the registration papers for the people who've come to this thing. I'll be making sure that someone else goes through those with him. Anyway, if you'll join me while I talk to the nephew I can give you the much shorter version of the set up here as we walk over."

Grissom hesitated, for him one of the best things about not being a detective was that he was never expected to lead an interview and usually only attended them when the forensics from the case could dictate how the questioning panned out. Right now he also didn't think he should be taking time out from his side of the investigation either, Jim's team might be on their way but the 'geek squad' was way behind and he wasn't even sure of his strategy for this case yet.

"You'd be doing me a favour, Gil, one thing I do know is that the nephew is about fifteen so between that, his relationship to the deceased and all the uncertainties we have right now, I'm going to have to tread lightly – I don't want to scare the kid or have the suggestion that I pushed him into saying something he didn't mean come back to haunt me later. So having you observe will keep me on the straight and narrow and give me some back up against any false claims that could turn up later." Jim took a moment to look at Grissom's face, trying to figure out how his efforts at persuasion were going before changing tack. "I think you might be more on his wavelength too, Bryson suggested that the aunt was probably here because of him, not the other way round, so he's probably some kind of science, err, fan."

Grissom half smiled, "you mean you're hoping I'll be able to establish some kind of special nerd-to-nerd communication? Or maybe act as your geek-speak translator?"

Brass briefly broke out of serious detective mode to smile his appreciation of Grissom's sardonic comments.

"Let's just say you give out a different vibe from me that the kid might find reassuring; and if he is into science you'll probably be better than me at convincing him that his aunt should stay where she is for now. Her name's Kate Barlow, by the way and the kid's Tim Adams."

Grissom nodded, mentally noting the names, some people found it easier to distance themselves when they were dealing with a John or Jane Doe, but Grissom definitely preferred to link his cases up to their real names and lives as early on as possible. He looked at his watch; it was just coming up to five a.m. so he had a few hours before Graveyard officially ended, but it would be unfair to let it get too close to that time before he started calling in reinforcements. On the other hand a little more time might bring a lot more information; the scouts he'd sent out would have chance to report back and give him more idea of the ground he'd have to cover, there'd be more time for his team members to finish up the cases they were already on or at least clear their scenes and get back to the lab, and nephew Tim would probably provide the information David Phillips needed to firmly decide if he should move the body or not. Wryly Grissom admitted to himself that a little more time would also delay the moment when he might have to do battle over who got a last minute call to do extra work – depending who it was he could be dealing with someone who was upset to be called on, someone who was upset not to be called on or, very probably, both.

"OK, I'll sit in for now at least, but if this takes very long I'll have to slip away and get on with my real job; if that's alright with you?"

Jim just grinned and gestured for Grissom to precede him towards where a dejected teenager was sitting all alone.


	5. Chapter 4

**Sky & Microscope**

Disclaimer: CSI: Crime Scene Investigation belongs to someone else entirely.

**A/N** A thousand apologies for the long delay in producing this chapter and I hope the length partially makes up for it. As some of you already know I have a number of health issues which sometimes coincide and create a 'vicious circle' that becomes difficult to break in order to recover. This was one of those occasions, and I promise that my writing wasn't the first or only thing to go by the wayside in the last few weeks.

My thanks go to BB for some emergency beta work and a hard shove to get this moving again. If you want to help keep that momentum going, please leave a review.

**Chapter 4**

The lowering full Moon cast long shadows ahead of Grissom and Brass as they made their way towards where their witness sat hunched up in a folding chair. The two men walked slowly, giving themselves time to exchange information.

Looking ahead Grissom could see that the Star party attendees seemed to have begun to split into two groups. Many were gathered together for comfort after hearing about the gruesome discovery, but a significant number could be seen further away moving amongst a host of various different shapes and sizes of telescope and a few more mysterious pieces of astronomical equipment that Grissom knew he would probably love to inspect for himself if he didn't have higher priorities right now. Clearly there had been a split between those astronomers who were reluctant to miss a minute of their gathering and those who had allowed the discovery of Kate Barlow's body to cast a pall over the event. Grissom, his hands stuffed deep into his jacket pockets for warmth, remembered what Melanie Grace had said to him a few days earlier at the Little People's convention and understood that those who had returned to their hobby were not necessarily being callous, some might even have been occupying themselves as a coping method. From an investigators point of view the more people who wanted to continue the Star Party the better, because it meant that the group of possible suspects and witnesses would stay put in a single place rather than scattering to the four winds. Grissom knew that having as many people as possible stay voluntarily could be vital with Kate Barlow's body stuck where it was for the next few days and Brass' power to insist on no-one leaving non-existent until there was definite evidence of foul play.

Brass tried to fill Grissom in as quickly as possible, letting him know that he was sticking to the facts and cutting out Bryson's running commentary of personal opinions just like he'd tried to do himself while interviewing the Star Party organiser. The numbers were simple, just less than fifty people were either regular members of the Summerlin Astronomy circle or immediately connected to it; friends and family of members or members who didn't attend regular meetings but did make an effort to come to these extended gatherings. The remainder were newcomers attracted by advertising in the local papers in the hope of bringing in some new blood and prospective members. Several people were from outside the immediate area; something which Bryson had blamed on the Circle's newly set up website.

"So about a third of the people here aren't directly connected to the astronomy society that's running this thing, and Bryson doesn't know much about them." concluded Brass. "Unfortunately, that includes our possible victim and her nephew."

Once Jim was finished, Grissom made the detective aware of the things his own initial investigation had raised, such as the exact location of Kate Barlow's body, which might influence the direction of Brass' questioning. He had to keep his briefing short though; as they approached the boy the two men fell silent, not wanting their conversation to influence Tim Adams' statement. As they went by Grissom made himself useful by grabbing a couple of nearby folding camp stools for him and Brass. As they approached the boy, who had been given a more comfortable chair by somebody, glanced up briefly from the piece of ground he'd been staring at.

"Tim? My name's Jim Brass, I'm a detective with the Las Vegas Police and this is my colleague Doctor Gil Grissom. Is it OK if we talk with you about your aunt and what has happened tonight?"

Even though Grissom was concentrating on gathering first impressions of the young man in front of him he noted that Brass had omitted the words 'homicide' and 'captain' when introducing himself but had made sure to apply Grissom's own academic title, clearly trying to keep the boy's mind away from the possibility that his aunt might have been deliberately killed while introducing the idea that Tim was talking to a fellow 'scientist'. He was still wondering what Jim had meant earlier by saying Grissom gave out a 'different vibe' that might be helpful in interviewing their young witness; it wasn't like he was particularly good with kids, although he probably felt more awkward around them than they did around him. Still Jim was more tuned into this kind of thing than he was, so maybe there was something in Brass' idea that Grissom just wasn't seeing.

Grissom nodded politely when his name was mentioned before handing Jim a stool and then setting his own down to one side and a little further back from where Jim was planting his own seat; setting himself apart as an observer rather than aligning himself with Jim opposite the young man. The position came naturally to him, his regular place in life, on the outside looking in and participating only occasionally.

Jim started by asking if Tim wanted an adult to sit with him during their 'chat' but, after a brief glance towards where the other people were milling about the kid shook his head saying there was no-one he knew well enough.

"OK, but if you change your mind make sure you say right away and we'll fix you up, if there's no-one here you'd be happy with then I can arrange for someone from Child Services to help you."

Tim just shrugged. Satisfied that he'd discharged his obligation towards the witness Jim checked his notebook briefly before beginning the interview.

"Officer Wells tells me you don't have any contact info for your parents," Brass said to the boy, looking surprised. Tim shrugged.

"They made it clear that neither of them wanted to take time out to come here with me, but as soon as Kate volunteered they started making plans for a trip of their own. They never bothered to tell me where they were going, they just dropped us at the airport and said they'd be back in time to collect us when we got back.

"What about their cell phone numbers?"

"Dad has a cell for work but he turns it off and locks it away when he's not working because he thinks it's far too expensive to use for personal stuff. That's why he won't let Mom get one and Kate told her about some stuff she'd read about cell phone's giving you brain cancer so Mom didn't bother to argue with him."

Grissom noted that Tim's answer meant it was unlikely that they'd find a phone belonging to the aunt, not that that would stop him checking for himself of course.

"What about your grandparents? Or maybe some other aunt or uncle you have? Was your Aunt Kate married or with somebody?"

Tim looked a little bewildered at the onslaught of questions.

"All my grandparents are dead now and Dad was an only child. Mom doesn't have any brothers and her only sister was Kate. She told me that she's single when she said there was nothing to stop her coming here with me." Seeing that Brass was about to ask yet another question Tim ran his fingers through his hair. "Does it matter if we can't get hold of anyone right now, I am fifteen, can't I tell you what happened without someone else being here?"

"I'm sure you can," Jim agreed, "but I do need to locate your aunt's next of kin as soon as possible."

Tim hung his head in misery as he understood Brass' motive.

"I guess that I'm the nearest you're going to get until you find Mom."

Brass took advantage of Tim's downwards stare to glance at Grissom in query. The scientist understood the unspoken query and shook his head with a 'not necessary' sort of expression on his face. There was little point asking about any objections to leaving Kate where she was, as far as disposal of the body was concerned the investigation's requirements were prime in situations like this. Religious requirements for rapid burial were always viewed sympathetically but, even if this applied to Kate, there was no-one who could make the necessary arrangements so for now any decisions about the body had to remain in official hands.

"That's OK, Tim," Jim resumed once he'd finished his unspoken conversation with Grissom, "I got your home address from Officer Wells, we can have the police in your home town try and track down your parents and, until they do, Child Services will take care of you."

Tim looked alarmed. "Can't I stay here?"

"You want to? Well maybe if we can find an adult who could be considered responsible for you. Child Services would still have to agree but maybe something could be arranged."

Grissom hoped Jim was right, not only would it make the investigation easier if they didn't have to liberate Tim from a foster home every time they needed to talk to him, with the kid in a strange place and surrounded by strange people, the stars might be the only thing of familiarity around to help get him through this. Grissom knew that his own hobbies had helped him deal with his father's death, even if a few people had been alarmed at the morbid direction some of those pastimes had headed in.

"It's my fault," Tim broke in to the CSI's reverie; Grissom held his breath, knowing that Brass was doing the same. If the boy started to say anything at all which could be considered an admission of culpability in his aunt's death then Jim would need to close the interview down fast until an appropriate adult could be found, whatever Tim's wishes on the matter might be.

"Kate would never have been here if I hadn't wanted to come."

Familiar as he was with Brass, Grissom could almost see Jim slump in relief, the kid was expressing guilt but not any real culpability.

"It's OK Tim, your aunt was doing you a favour, but you didn't force her to volunteer, she chose to come, didn't she?"

"Yeah, but she didn't know exactly what would be happening this week. I told her it was a Star Party and her eyes lit up, I knew she wasn't really getting what I was saying, but I deliberately didn't put her straight, you know?"

"So she was expecting human 'stars'," Brass suggested, remembering his own confusion after the initial message Despatch had passed onto him.

Tim shook his head, his brow furrowing in confusion.

"Right kind of stars, wrong kind of ideas attached to them?" Grissom questioned gently. Tim looked at him, not quite sure where this 'Doctor' was going. "Your aunt thought she'd get to meet some people who shared her interest in astrology here didn't she?"

Tim nodded, his eyes widening as if the scientist's insight was pure magic. Brass just nodded, not quite sure where the leap had come from, but accepting it as pure Grissom.

"All right," Jim took back the lead, "so your aunt might not have been quite expecting what she found here. Did she seem upset when she did realise?"

"I'm not sure she even did. We got here in the afternoon and people were just chatting and setting up camp and, even if the word astronomy was mentioned Kate was one of those people who just gets the words confused, she's not the only one either, nearly every time someone sees me with an astronomy book and tries to talk to me about it they start by telling me what 'sign' they are. Kate never got the difference however many times I tried to tell her. I guess she never will now."

The moonlight glittered off tears which were about to spill and Brass quickly steered the interview back on track.

"Just tell us what happened after you both got here. Did you stay with your aunt?"

Tim shook his head.

"When we got here Kate suggested I try and join up with some of the other guys around my age. It turned out that most of them weren't really that interested in astronomy like I am, but by then we were already being organised into a group for some activities. I guess Mom and Dad are right when they say I'm not too good at saying 'no' when I don't really want to do something because I just let myself get dragged along with everyone else.

"It wasn't too bad at first, the theme of the Star Party is 'Testing the Myths' and we did some interesting stuff this afternoon and in the early evening while we were waiting for it to get dark enough to do some real astronomy, but some of the others were getting bored and when they heard that the camp fire was going to be put out to stop it affecting the seeing and they realised that they couldn't spend the night where it was warm just lounging around and talking, they decided to sneak away and find something else to do."

"'Seeing'?" Brass queried and, aware that Tim was still composing himself, Grissom provided the answer.

"It's a term astronomers use to describe how clear and still the atmosphere is. The fire wouldn't just cause problems by giving out too much light and smoke, the heat from it would make the air shimmer and the stars behind it appear to move around and change colour. Twinkling stars may sound great in the children's song, but they're the last thing you want to see when you have a night of serious observing planned."

"You're into astronomy too." Tim stated, as if the wonder at meeting yet another kindred spirit in one day was so great it was briefly overcoming his grief.

"Yes, I do," was Grissom's mild response as he offered the kid a smile almost as shy as the one he received in return. "Unfortunately I'm not here to indulge my hobbies though, I'm here to work, and tonight my job is to find out what happened to your aunt Kate, and to do that I need to know more about what happened this evening. You said some of the other teens decided to slip away. Did you go with them?"

"Like I said, I'm not good at saying 'no'," Tim repeated, focussing again. "Usually it's not a problem, most kids my age don't seem to want me hanging around with them anyway, but at least that means I can just get on doing what I want to do by myself."

Grissom found himself nodding as the boy was talking, recognising from his own childhood the strange ambivalence resulting from feelings of loneliness and desire to belong alongside the sensation of relief when everyone went away and he could go back to being himself instead of what other people seemed to think he should be.

"But this time you had something the group needed." Grissom prompted Tim before Brass could speak; he knew from experience how this stuff worked.

"My flashlight," Tim answered, a slightly hysterical laugh momentarily breaking through in spite of the tears in his eyes. "A bunch of teenagers who knew they would be up all night in the middle of the desert for almost a week and I was the only one who'd thought they might need a flashlight; a couple had cigarette lighters but no-one else had anything more reliable."

"And you just agreed to go along." Brass reclaimed his role as lead interviewer.

"I tried to persuade them that the red filter I've put on the flash meant it wouldn't be much use to them, but they just figured it would make it harder for the adults to see where we went."

Tim looked at Brass apologetically, "I should probably have just given them the flashlight and stayed where I was, but I knew if I did I'd never have gotten it back, well, not in working order anyhow. I know that doesn't seem important now, but it did then." Tim stopped and went back to looking at the ground between his feet for a moment before looking up again almost defiantly. "You know, thinking about it, I'm glad I did go. I mean I wish I hadn't had to see Kate like that, but at least she has been found, without the light the others might not have bothered to go in there and, even if they had, if I hadn't been there I don't know how those guys would have reacted to finding her. They were already acting like they thought they were the Scooby Gang in the middle of some kind of mysterious adventure, I don't want to think about what kind of 'investigations' they might have tried before calling someone to help if I hadn't been yelling at them." Suddenly the small spark of defiance died and Tim dropped his head into his hands.

Brass let him rest for a few beats the interview was drifting off course again; the aim was to establish the exact circumstances of the discovery of Kate Barlow's body, not to make the kid feel he had to account for his lack of social graces.

"You mentioned going 'in there', Tim. Can you tell me some more about that? Was there a definite plan to head in that direction? Which of the group seemed to know that the canyon was even there? I'm told it's not easy to spot from a distance."

"It isn't," agreed Tim, "but we all knew it was there already; that was one of this afternoon's activities, it's a fairly common belief that you can see stars even in the daytime if you're at the bottom of a deep well, and we used the narrow canyon as an easier and safer equivalent to the well to establish what the truth might be. I forget who was first to suggest we went back there in the dark but the group seemed to be split between the guys who seemed to think they'd catch 'the egghead' out by finding something that proved our earlier experiment was fixed, which at least meant they'd showed an interest, and the ones who just figured it would be spooky and cool."

"Well, once we're done here I'll need you to confirm which of the other kids were in the group, they'll all need to give statements and Doctor Grissom or one of his team will need to process you and any of the others who entered the area where you found your aunt."

Tim gave Grissom a wary glance at this, he'd seemed to be relaxing around the scientist as he realised they had some things in common, but clearly the idea of being 'processed' was worrying him. Grissom tried to look reassuring and was just about to explain the simple procedures that would be involved when he was interrupted by the squawk of the walkie-talkie dangling from his belt. Apologising he got up from his stool, which he was surprised to notice was a lot closer to forming a circle with the other two than when he'd originally put it down, and moved away to take the incoming call, leaving Jim to finish up with Tim.

The reason for the interruption was that one of the scouts he'd sent out to seek alternate entrances to the canyon had found something that might possibly be a way in. Grissom decided not to return to the interview; now that he had two sites to investigated plus a number of teenagers who would at need at least a minimum of processing before any evidence on them could be lost entirely he had to get on with managing his side of the investigation and the first thing he needed to do was get some assistance. Thinking about his options as he went, Grissom headed back to the CSI truck where he could use the more powerful radio there to contact the lab and, if necessary, get patched into the main 'phone network.

It didn't take him long to get through to Crime Lab reception and confirm that everyone who was on duty except himself were now back at base. A few less formal questions tapped into Judy's gossip database and added to Grissom's supply of useful facts in deciding who to get out there to help him, information he would normally have heard as his team reported back throughout the night but which he'd missed due to the poor reception out there in the desert leaving him out of touch.

It seemed that Nick and Warrick had both ended up dumpster diving, something he'd suspected would happen when he'd given them their assignment; one of the advantages to being the boss was not having to cover that kind of work much anymore but he wasn't so far removed that he'd forgotten what it was like and he always made a point of letting people who did it head home as soon as possible, no matter how good the Lab showers were they didn't seem to clear the stench make you feel as clean as showering at home did. That made it against his personal policy to insist that either man come out again at this time in the morning; besides with Kate Barlow's body in such a tight spot someone more slender and flexible would be more useful than either man. Unfortunately it appeared that Catherine was having a bad night and was unlikely to be in the sunniest of moods. Grissom had chosen her case for her because it looked like it could turn out to be high profile and by giving it to his deputy he'd figured it would be less likely that the Sheriff or Director would insist on him taking over. In the end Catherine had been dealing with the media hanging around her crime scene most of the night which had made her mad enough according to Judy, but then she'd had the frustration of finding out that her DB wasn't the person everyone had first thought, getting rid of the reporters but leaving Catherine back at square one with a Jane Doe to identify as well as the crime itself to solve. The red-head would probably be both unwilling and unable to do him a favour and take on any extra work beyond her own case for quite a while.

So, only one option left. Sighing and desperately hoping he wouldn't find himself accused yet again of stopping her getting the life he'd told her himself she deserved to have, Grissom clicked the send button on the radio handset once more.


	6. Chapter 5

**Sky & Microscope**

Disclaimer: Sadly, CSI: Crime Scene Investigation belongs to someone else entirely.

**A/N** I'm sure you guys are as fed up of hearing my excuses as I am of making them so let's just say RL sucks and I'm doing my best.

Apart from that, in spite of my earlier protests there is just a smidgeon of GSR in this chapter, and maybe a hint of something else regular readers of my stories will have been expecting, even though I wasn't.

**Chapter 5**

Grissom stood up and stretched his back and legs. Taking a long swig from his water bottle he took advantage of his elevated position directly above the cavern where Kate Barlow's body had been found to observe the combined spectacles of a desert sunrise and the glory of the moon setting on the opposite horizon at precisely the same time. Unable to take in both vistas at once the scientist chose to turn to face the west and admire the contrast between the pale bluish beauty of the Moon at its fullest and the rocks it was setting against, painted an even redder hue by the first rays of the rising Sun.

Just as he was thinking that this really was a manifestation of Homer's oft mentioned 'rosy fingered Dawn', Grissom spotted a slender figure approaching him from within the Moon's glare. Between his musings on ancient Greek poetry and the figure's lithe body and dark haired, pale skinned beauty, Grissom could almost have imagined that he was about to receive a personal visit from the goddess Artemis, except the illusion was quickly shattered as the figure stomped closer revealing hunched shoulders, hair scraped back into an untidy pony tail and a CSI coverall instead of classical dress. Everything about her posture said that this 'goddess' was most definitely pissed. Grissom actually found himself shuddering at the knowledge that her wrath was aimed at him and wished that the officer who had booked Sara into the crime scene had radioed to warn him of her arrival so that he could have gone to meet her at ground level and maybe have given Sara a few minutes less to seethe, especially as he needed her to work down there, not up here with him, a plan which he was now very glad he'd made.

"Grissom." Her tone was enough to make him mentally resolve that he would avoid asking Sara to do overtime from now on, even if that meant assigning her the more malodorous cases in future so that he could justify sending her home on time each morning.

"Hey, Sara, I, uh, I hope I haven't spoiled any, um, plans, you had for this morning by having you come out here."

Sara raised an eyebrow at Grissom's diffidence but wasn't prepared to let him off the hook by saying anything.

"Well, um, I've already checked over everyone who's admitted going near our body as much as I could justify without any evidence of foul play, but I only felt able to request a DNA sample from the woman's nephew and for now I'll leave fingerprinting until there's something to compare them to. I've been waiting for enough light to start examining this possible alternative access point to the body's location so I've only just begun here. Anyway, if we go back down I'll show you what I've done so far at the main crime scene. I'd like you to pick up where I left off and I'll join you again once I'm done here and we can see what more needs to be done to preserve her body and any evidence on it in situ until we can move her out of there. Once we've done that as well as possible you'll be free to go. I'll make sure everything that needs to gets back to the lab for processing."

Grissom's confidence had begun to return now that he was able to take on his role as supervisor and concentrate on professional matters and he felt quite hopeful that he had defused whatever was prompting Sara's hostile attitude, for the time being at least; as he indicated that she should follow him back down from the ridge.

Unfortunately Sara was not so easily diverted. "You don't have to do me any favours," she told him, not moving from her position.

Grissom halted in his tracks and looked at Sara confused by the hostile tone in her voice. Surely the fact that he'd called her all the way out here at the tail end of their shift meant that he'd done her the exact opposite and given her no consideration at all.

"I don't want you to treat me any differently just because a couple of weeks back you found out I'm seeing someone. I'm here now and I'll stay on this case as long as you do."

Grissom ran his hand through his hair in frustration. Boy, did this woman confuse him; he never knew quite how to handle her. The slightest perception of mistreatment sent her into a sulk, but any imagined sign of favouritism seemed to anger her even more. Grissom had always done his best to be scrupulously fair in his dealings with everyone he came across, but whatever he did with regard to Sara seemed to be the wrong thing. Once he'd got over his surprisingly mixed feelings on finding out that Sara was now dating Hank Peddigrew he'd dared to hope that some of the tension her surprisingly strong interest in him had caused between them would be diffused, but apparently that hadn't happened.

Over the last year since Sara had moved to Las Vegas permanently, Grissom had been stunned by her continuing interest in him. OK, they'd hit it off fine when they'd first met in San Francisco, but he'd been relaxed in her company because he'd known it would be a short term thing, his relationships always ended up being anyway, but at least this one would have a quick, natural end when he returned to Las Vegas, without any of the awkwardness and hurt usually involved when things fizzled out. It had been a surprise when Sara really had called him after the symposium was over and, instead of ending abruptly, their relationship had continued via 'phone and email. Even so they hadn't arranged to meet up and their conversations had been mostly forensics related with maybe just a little flirting before or after the main business was dealt with. Grissom found flirting with Sara easy, more so because they weren't face to face, but in spite of that he'd thought little of it and just assumed that Sara saw him only as a fellow professional whose additional experience could help her learn more about her chosen field and was happy to take the time to pass his knowledge on. Even though he'd felt he knew Sara well enough to trust her when he needed the help of an investigator from outside the Crime Lab, he'd surprised himself when he'd admitted aloud that he needed her to stay for personal reasons as well as t make up numbers on the graveyard shift. The surprise had deepened almost to shock when her response had been so eager and positive; it seemed she was as attracted to him as he was to her! He'd still been certain that it wouldn't last long once she got to know him, most women seemed to decide he would make a much better friend than a boyfriend within a very short time, so he'd done his best to keep Sara, and his emotions, at a safe distance and protect them both from professional repercussions at the time and personal ones later once Sara inevitably moved on to someone far better for her than Grissom would ever be, especially now his impending deafness made him even worse partner material than he (and it seemed everyone he'd ever dated) had already begun to believe.

He knew that Sara hadn't really understood what he was trying to do and had ended up being hurt by his actions and said some hurtful things to him in return. Grissom took full responsibility for that, he'd sent Sara mixed signals due to his own weakness, falling back into their old pattern of flirting occasionally and then thrusting her away to arms length in over-reaction. Every time he'd tried to talk to her about the situation but he'd chickened out, between his usual difficulties in finding the words to discuss anything personal and what felt like Sara's hair trigger defensive reaction as far as he was concerned, Grissom had to admit to being scared to even start that conversation. All things considered it should actually have felt like a relief when Sara finally did find someone else, but he'd been surprised by his emotional reaction to finding out she was now dating another man. He'd tried to put it down to the way he'd found out even though he knew that he had given Sara no reason to believe that she should have broken it to him more gently. Sara herself still seemed very moody when he was around in spite of apparently having found happiness elsewhere. In spite of being hailed as a so called genius, Grissom just couldn't understand any of it.

"Sara," he said her name with a sigh, "let's not make this into some kind of competition. We have a unique situation here, with not much to go on, we don't even know for sure if the death is suspicious or not right now. For once it turns out that our witnesses and potential suspects are all on the same sleeping schedule as we are. Brass and I have consulted and agreed that it makes sense to get as many tests as we can underway at the lab and then come at this fresh again this evening, hopefully having at least narrowed down possible causes of death and anything else which might give us more to work with. So it's not just you who'll be going home in a few hours time, Jim and I will be leaving too, although there will be some day shift uniformed officers arriving soon to guard our scene and keep an eye on the Star Party attendees."

Sara looked confused for a moment and Grissom suspected that it was partly from the shock of hearing him actually suggest they didn't continue working through the day.

"But shouldn't we take advantage of the daylight while we've got it?" Sara asked after a pause, her voice uncertain.

Grissom nodded, hiding the almost pleasurable feeling he was getting from confusing Sara by failing to act like the predictable evidence collecting robot that she, and indeed many others, assumed him to be. It was nice to be able to turn the tables for once and prove that people didn't know him as well as they thought they did. "That's why I decided to move to this potential scene as soon as the light increased enough. We're going to have to mostly rely on artificial lighting where the body is though, so it won't matter much if it's night-time or day in there and I left it until you came to help me out.

Sara nodded her head in understanding, although Grissom thought she still looked just a little shell-shocked, then followed Grissom's lead and concentrated on the work to be done, the way the pair normally coped when personal awkwardness made things difficult between them. Satisfied, Grissom turned once again to amble down the hill in the same direction from which Sara had just come and was greatly relieved to hear the sound of the woman's boots following close behind.

Aware that they might be tracing a path which had been used by one or more other people connected to their investigation, the pair went slowly and without talking while they carefully noted, and avoided, the most obvious places to step or place a steadying hand. Sara was also literally treading in Grissom's footsteps so that the minimum number of footprints were left behind as they travelled. Both CSIs were hoping to see some clear evidence that others had been the same way. In such open scenery there were multiple route options and without some serious luck they may never find the right one, if there was one to find at all.

Stopping briefly at the CSI vehicle that Sara had arrived in to collect some of the additional equipment that Grissom had asked her to bring with her, the two CSIs headed up the narrow side canyon to where Kate Barlow's body had been found.

Mitch greeted them at the entrance to the slot canyon and called inside for the man who had been keeping the body 'company' to come out and make room for the two scientists and their gear. As the man, one of those who had arrived with David Phillips, emerged he brought the sickly aroma of cigarette smoke with him. Grissom could see Sara wrinkling her nose and looking at him and waiting to see what he would say about this blatant contamination of the crime scene, but he merely smiled and nodded his thanks when the man saluted him with what appeared to be his lunch sack and wandered back towards the Coroner's van that was still parked not far away.

"Can't you smell that?" Sara asked him incredulously as they entered the chamber which held an even stronger aroma of tobacco smoke.

"Yeah, sorry about that, I know it's not pleasant, but this place has a natural chimney, it should soon clear."

"But he was smoking in here."

"I know, I asked him to, don't worry, I had him make sure that every last piece of ash went into that old lunch sack, although I will take samples for comparison in case any questions come up."

"But why on Earth would you _want_ him to pollute this place?"

"Bugs."

Sara looked at him blankly.

"For once the little guys would not be particularly helpful to have around, so I arranged for a little temporary deterrent. You know that I'd never condone smoking at an active crime scene but the cigarette smoke was easily available and even if we'd had chemical repellents with us they would have been even more likely to cause long term contamination of any evidence that might be around."

Sara indicated her understanding even though her nose still twitched unhappily. "Remind me to stock my kit with citronella candles in future," she half joked.

Grissom offered a slight smile of acknowledgement.

"Well here she is," he indicated the well concealed body, placing the lightweight step-ladder he had carried from Sara's truck by the narrow crack that Kate Barlow had somehow ended up wedged in. "Considering the special circumstances David has cleared it for us to handle the body more than we normally would before she's been moved to the morgue, but obviously we need to be extra careful in recording everything we do. Not that I needed to tell you that," he added quickly, not wanting to offend his companion and ruin the unofficial truce that currently held between them. "I've already taken as many pictures as I could from this side and ground level, but if you could use the ladder to get some from higher up and, if you can improvise a way to do it, of her far side that would be great. Once that's done, if you could start by combing her hair and swabbing that damage to her cheek, and then continue to process her as much as possible in the same way as you would if she were on one of Doc. Robbins slabs, but just work on the side nearest us. Then, if anything gets missed we stand some chance of catching it once we get her back in a controlled environment."

"And the same with her hands, just the left one and save the other one for later." Sara finished for him, showing that she understood her supervisor's thinking.

Grissom nodded. "Yes, but bag her head before you move on, as soon as you can, in fact, because between doing that and leaving most of her clothing in place the opportunities for any insects getting inside her body to lay their eggs should be cut right down. Give me a call on the radio if you've done all that before I get back and we'll compare notes on what to do next.

Just as Grissom was about to leave, knowing that he could trust Sara to diligently carry out his instructions and probably exceed them, Sara spoke.

"You've already done her foot." She stated, having stepped close to the body and noticed the clear plastic bag covering Kate's left foot and taped tightly closed forming a seal with the bottom of her jeans' leg. "Were her boot and sock already missing when she was found?"

Grissom shook his head, "No, actually I took them, removing them helped David assess the body's lividity and I wanted to do it before any swelling caused by blood pooling made them too difficult to take off. The boot will probably be the most useful item we can have to help get this investigation started, we can use it for comparison with any footmarks we find and any trace we can get off it might help narrow down where she was earlier or even give a clue to someone she had contact with. I didn't see any obvious signs of redressing but I cut the laces to preserve the knot in case we find something else which might indicate someone else handled them in the future. Also, when I did remove them I immediately saw something else that might turn out to be a useful clue about Kate Barlow herself and may even lead to a possible motive." Grissom reached over and used both hands to flatten the thick plastic of the evidence bag in front of a particular spot on Kate's ankle to make it easier to see through to what lay beneath. Sara leaned closer and directed her flash light to illuminate the mark revealed which was made harder to see by the purplish red blotches of livor mortis caused by blood pooling at the lowest part of the body now that the heart was no longer causing it to circulate. The extra light made the bluish black ink of a simple tattoo easier to make out.

"Some kind of ornamental letter 'V', quite narrow with curls coming out of the two upper points, or..."

"It's the astrological symbol for the 'star sign' Aries." Grissom interjected, totally missing the glare he got for interrupting, "I was able to confirm during Brass' interview with her nephew that Ms. Barlow was interested in astrology, which might have led to some alienation between her and some of the other people here, although it does seem a stretch to think that would be enough by itself to explain a homicide."

Sara nodded her agreement, "It also suggests that her birthday fall somewhere between mid-March and mid-April," she added, making it clear with an accompanying look that she had been getting around to the same conclusion about an astrological connection before her boss had butted in, "but as we already have an ID, I don't suppose that helps much."

"Who knows what will or won't help at this stage," Grissom shrugged, to be honest he hadn't actually figured out the bit about Kate's date of birth, his interests lay with astronomy and he tended to associate the name 'Aries' with a not particularly spectacular constellation that was best seen in the Fall, rather than as a Spring 'birth sign'.

"Right now we're still in the dark, literally and figuratively," Grissom quipped, indicating their surroundings," just get as much as you can within the space limitations and I'll see you in a little while."

Grissom left Sara to it and headed back to the summit, his knees aching as he ascended a slope which seemed to be at exactly the wrong angle for him to comfortably manage. By the time he got there the Sun was fully above the horizon and the Moon wholly below it and, even though the landscape was still spectacular, it was easier for Grissom to concentrate on his work.

Just like when he and Sara had headed down from the plateau, the first thing that Grissom tried to do was identify possible approach routes to the crevice in the rock that corresponded to the small 'skylight' in Kate Barlow's cave. Moving slowly Grissom, giving the cleft a wide berth for now, began to work out from it using plastic number markers to indicate any signs of recent disturbance. Photographing each mark with a scale marker and noting its position on a rough sketch map, he slowly spiralled his way out towards the edge of the mesa, where he paid particular attention to any viable ascent or decent points. He'd need to check out when the local weather had last produced enough wind or rain to wipe clean the ground, hopefully he wouldn't have to try and find a way to rule out marks that were weeks or even months old when he attempted to find a pattern in all this, for now though, Grissom was reasonably pleased with what he'd got, he'd even assembled a small collection of evidence bags filled with possible trace items that might help him identify whether the marks he'd seen were human or of some other origin. Walking back towards his start point Grissom couldn't even make out where the crevice was from that angle, even with his kit to show him roughly where it was. He could understand why the officer who had found it had told him that, in spite of the bright moonlight, she'd only noticed it because the beams from his and David's flashlights had been visible shining through it. In fact she'd said that she might have fallen down it if the light hadn't shown at just the right time.

Grissom's stomach rumbled loudly enough that he was glad no-one was around to hear. Checking his watch he decided he was probably due a break, he'd return his equipment and unused supplies to his kit and then take his camera, evidence and sketch map back to his vehicle. Once he'd checked that Sara was OK he'd sit in the truck and have something to eat and drink while he examined everything that he'd just gathered to try and identify some kind of pattern amongst his map markings that would tell him where to go next. He reached up to rub his eyes with his free hand, it had been a long night even before he'd had to deal with Sara, but maybe when he'd eaten he'd feel refreshed enough to give the area immediately around the edge of the crack the attention it deserved.

In that brief moment of inattention, Grissom's foot started to slide on a patch of fine gravel, instinctively he used that short period before an accident when the brain speeds up and everything else seems to go into slow motion to protect the potential evidence rather than saving himself, he managed to drop the bags he was carrying in a controlled way and then moved his arms to protect the camera around his neck, but there was no time to do all that and regain his balance.

Grissom fell. Heavily.


	7. Chapter 6

**Sky & Microscope**

Disclaimer: CSI: Crime Scene Investigation belongs to someone else entirely.

**Chapter 6**

"What the..." A string of invective reached Grissom's ears as he lay, stunned and winded, on his back on the gritty desert floor. Squinting awkwardly he moved his head slowly from left to right and back again but couldn't see who might be speaking.

"Hey, whoever you are has nobody ever told you to mess around at a crime scene?"

The voice which wasn't totally clear but was obviously very angry seemed to be coming from the ground somewhere near Grissom's feet. Managing to raise his head a little he tried to move his legs slightly so he could see past the toes of his work boots. As he did so there was a rattling sound and a shooting pain that made him gasp and hold himself still again.

"Right, that's it," was the voice's response, as Grissom let his head drop back to the ground and tried to breathe through the spasm his movement had created. Letting out a moan he closed his eyes. This was going to be horribly embarrassing.

Several minutes seemed to pass while Grissom tried to get his breath and composure back. The shock of his fall had disoriented him enough for him to wonder if he'd dreamt the angry voice he'd thought he'd heard or, worse still, if he was beginning to have auditory hallucinations, something that he'd discovered was known to happen to some people who were in the process of losing their hearing. Even if the voice had been real, the anger in it meant there was no guarantee that its owner intended to investigate further. Taking a steadying breath Grissom decided that it was time to attempt to move again, to try and assess his injuries and check out whether his radio had survived the accident in working order. Before he could quite build up enough courage though, he heard a new voice, male this time; and coming from a new direction somewhere behind his head.

"Gil! Gil! Are you OK?"

"Hey, Jim," Grissom responded, wincing as he took a deeper breath in order to call out. Tilting his head backwards awkwardly he attempted to spot Brass' approach. His response should reassure his friend that he was at least conscious, but he didn't actually answer the detective's question because he wasn't yet sure for himself if he was alright.

Footsteps rapidly approached and Jim made a welcome appearance in Grissom's field of view, albeit at an unfamiliar angle.

"So what have you been up to?" Brass asked, raising an eyebrow. His tone was light but Grissom could see his friend's eyes scanning rapidly over him in an attempt to assess the situation.

"Fell." Grissom said, tersely.

Jim's expression said 'tell me something I didn't know,' but he didn't voice the words aloud. Instead he hunkered down beside the CSI.

"That's it, you just fell?"

Grissom nodded silently, to add to his embarrassment he could feel that his cheeks were beginning to glow red, which only made him blush harder.

"Do you have any idea what went through my head when, after Sara came storming up to me and told me to deal with whichever of _my_ officers was messing up _her_ crime scene, I checked around and realised that not only was the only person up here was you, who definitely wouldn't cause any problems at a crime scene if you could help it, and that you weren't responding to my radio calls?" Brass' voice became almost as strident as Sara's had been as he continued. The anxiety he'd obviously felt now converted to frustration now that he had established that this wasn't going to be a repeat of the Holly Gribbs incident.

"Sorry, Jim," Grissom apologised, "this was my own fault, just plain clumsiness."

"Yeah, well now I've got my men doing another head count to check that none of our suspect pool decided to sneak away and do you a mischief." Jim had continued to visually scan Grissom for signs of injury while he talked and it seemed that something he was seeing was making his anger dissipate. "Well, I guess it's a good exercise for the guys to double check that we really do have confirmed IDs and addresses for everyone; this thing may be due to go on for another few days but there'll be some folk who want to head home after what's happened, especially when they realise that the DB is going to be left sitting around a few hundred yards away; strange as it may seem to you the presence of a corpse can really spoil a party's atmosphere, even when it's a 'star party'. I need to know I can track people down later if and when you science guys tell me this is an official homicide investigation."

"And what about their statements?"

"We're taking them but confirming peoples' alleged locations through the night are going to be a real pain; in the dark it's pretty hard to be sure who saw who, where and at what time. The ones who do feel able to confirm each other's alibis have been friends for a while and without any independent confirmations I don't know how far to trust what they say. Right now, though, that's not exactly my priority."

Grissom looked confused, but Bass just looked back at him with one eyebrow raised pointedly until Grissom realised he was referring to the fact that, as they talked, one of them was lying flat on his back on the ground. Grissom had the good sense to look abashed; as happened a lot with him, he'd allowed himself to get lost in his work to avoid dealing with something that was causing him discomfort; it was just that on this occasion his unease was entirely physical. Brass' comment about not being able to get a hold of him had raised strong suspicions about what might be the cause of that pain, now he just needed to confirm his idea and get moving again.

"You think you could help me sit up, Jim?" he asked.

Brass wrinkled his brow, he seemed concerned. Grissom followed the other man's eye line, Jim seemed to be focussing somewhere near his right hip. Still unable to comfortably raise his head enough to see what Jim was looking at, he did what he'd been nervous of doing earlier and moved his hand down to explore the area by touch. He couldn't quite reach the spot that was causing him the most pain, because it was underneath him, but he was able to feel something. His hand touched something wet and when he raised it enough to see his fingers they were red. _Damn,_ came his first thought, _I've contaminated the scene_.

"I called for EMTs as soon as I realised you were down," Brass tried to reassure him, although the last thing Grissom wanted to hear about was a possible ambulance trip, "but it's gonna take them a while to get here unless I call back and insist on an air evacuation. Actually that might be the best thing considering you're up here above road level."

Grissom was about to interrupt and stop Brass from calling on precious resources before they had a better idea what was actually necessary when another, slightly hesitant, voice broke in on Jim's musings.

"Maybe I can help work out how much help is needed?"

Grissom craned his head to see around Brass. David Phillips was standing there, holding the larger than average green first aid case that normally travelled in the Coroner's Department van. The senior CSI smiled in relief, he was pretty confident that his injuries, while painful, were not serious and he certainly wasn't eager to lie where he was any longer than he absolutely had to.

Brass seemed to be in two minds about accepting the bespectacled young man's help, even though he must realise that if Grissom was still bleeding the cause needed to be dealt with quickly.

"I'm not sure he's ready for the coroner's department's services yet," Brass joked to cover his hesitation but even if David missed his reluctance, Grissom didn't.

"Thanks, David," Grissom called out, making the decision to accept the help offered for himself. People tended to forget that the unassuming young man had already been a fully qualified MD with a hospital rotation behind him before he was even allowed to begin training with Doc Robbins. Grissom suspected that it was David's natural diffidence that had made him decide to follow his choice of medical career path. When you're a little shy the dead are much easier to cope with than the living, something Grissom knew from his own experience, although age had brought confidence in his case, at least when he was dealing with people as part of his work.

Brass continued to hover until Grissom asked him to arrange for a little privacy. If David had already managed to find out that his medical skills were required then the news of his accident was probably spreading like wild fire amongst the LVPD team at the site and having all of those people who could find an excuse to come up here and gawp at him in this condition wouldn't do much for his reputation as a serious criminologist, especially as he had a horrible feeling that for David to examine him properly he was probably going to have to lose his pants. Brass reluctantly hesitated and then started to move away, allowing the assistant coroner to take his place at Grissom's side. Just before leaving he touched David on his shoulder to get his attention.

"Check out his head will you? It's his most valuable asset in the first place and I'm pretty sure he knocked himself out for a few minutes; I was calling out to him for a while before he moved or responded."

Now Grissom understood the level of Brass' reaction better. While he was quite sure that he hadn't actually hit his head or lost consciousness it was quite possible that his hearing had cut out for a short while and prevented him from noticing Jim calling at first. Of course that left him with a dilemma; he didn't want to get caught up in unnecessary restrictions because of some imaginary possibility of concussion, but he didn't want to take the risk of telling David the more likely reason why he hadn't reacted either. Even if he managed to convince David that the revelation ought to be covered by doctor-patient confidentiality, time and a guilty conscience would almost certainly result in Doc Robbins being brought in on the secret and, while Al would be sympathetic and unlikely to go to the powers that be behind Grissom's back, unless he thought the situation was affecting the chances of one of the morgue's 'clients' getting justice, he would also put pressure on him to 'do the right thing' and inform his bosses that he was losing the ability to continue doing his job; something that Grissom wanted to put off until he felt ready to do so, which in practice would probably be at around about the time when he could no longer successfully conceal the problem.

"Jim's worrying over nothing, David," Grissom said, "I know I didn't hit my head and I've certainly been aware since the moment of impact, but every time I try to move I get a lot of pain. That's why I haven't been moving around much, but if I did happen to shift slightly just before Jim shouted I might not have heard him while I tried to breathe through a spasm." Yes, that sounded plausible, it might even be the real explanation of events. He hadn't noticed any of the signs that occasionally accompanied his hearing deafness like whistling or ringing noises or a feeling of pressure. Grissom was well on the way to convincing himself that this explanation was true, he just hoped that David would accept the story as well.

"Well, if you're sure," David said, apparently happy to accept the word of someone he was still a little in awe of in spite of Grissom's attempts to be more approachable. Slipping on a pair of latex gloves, David briefly looked back over his shoulder in the direction Brass had headed, he clearly didn't want to get into trouble with the detective captain. "How about you just let me have a quick check for any obvious contusions? I don't want to get a lecture from Doc Robbins for not being thorough enough if something shows up later."

Grissom rolled his eyes but tolerated David's fingertips as they gently explored his scalp and the back of his neck.

"So what exactly did happen?"

Grissom was tempted to repeat the terse answer he'd given to Brass earlier, but he knew that his response would guide David's examination and by steering the coroner's assistant directly to the real site of the problem he would hopefully be able to get up off the hard floor fairly soon and, with a bit of luck, put an end to all this talk of EMTs, he'd had quite enough for one day already and the possibility of coming across Sara's new beau under the current circumstances was more than he even wanted to think about right now. Dignified was the way he'd imagined being when he next met the man he now knew to be lucky enough to be dating Sara, and dignified was the last word he'd use to describe the way things looked right now.

"My foot skidded and I tried to save the evidence instead of myself," he admitted. "I landed flat on my ass. Now every time I try to raise myself up or move my legs into a new position I get a stabbing pain in back of my right hip. From what Captain Brass was saying just now I think I may have landed on my radio. I think you better help me roll over so you can check out what sustained the most damage; it or me."

"OK." David nodded and sat back on his haunches, apparently satisfied by his fingertip examination that Grissom's skull and senses were still intact. "There's some blood around but not enough for serious concern, so that probably means that nothing has gone in too deep and clotting has already begun. Let's just hope that moving you doesn't open anything up. It might be easiest if we roll you, but before that do you mind if I try feeling your legs? Just to be sure no other injuries have been missed."

Grissom agreed because it was a sensible request. After asking to be told if Grissom felt any pain or, alternatively, any areas of numbness, David began gently feeling down each of Grissom's legs.

"He's usually unarmed," Brass said dryly, returning from reassigning his men away from the immediate area, "even when I tell him he should be."

"Actually I'm checking to see..." David began, but broke off and smiled politely when he realised that Jim was joking about having caught him apparently patting Grissom down for weapons.

"So how's the damage assessment coming along?"

"No signs of head injury or obvious broken bones," reported David as he completed his checks. "I just need to see what's causing the bleeding. Doctor Grissom says his hip's hurting badly enough to make him wary of moving, so maybe you could help me roll him on his side so I can take a proper look."

"You OK with that buddy?"

Grissom showed his consent and then waited while David and Brass organized themselves to perform a log roll on him. He'd assist them as much as he could, but he wouldn't be able to use his legs to do so without causing himself a lot of pain and possibly more damage, so his colleagues would have to do most of the work. David gave the countdown and, with another sharp twinge and the sound of shifting gravel, Grissom was lying on his side. He winced and tried to regain his composure and, as he did so, he once again thought he heard a muffled voice. Was it Sara again? He still wasn't quite sure how she was managing to react so quickly every time he moved. Or was it one of the two men, commenting on his injury while he was unable to work out what they were saying because his hearing was playing up again? Even though it wasn't failing completely that often, yet anyway, his oncoming deafness was always on his mind and his first thought whenever he couldn't quite make out what was being said to him. The possibility was rapidly ruled out though when the radio that was attached to the belt of Jim Brass, who was currently kneeling just behind Grissom's head, came loudly to life right beside his ear. After checking that Grissom could maintain his new position on his side without help, Brass wandered off a little way to respond, his first words confirming that it was indeed Sara once again.

"So, what can you see, David?" Grissom asked, trying not to imagine Sara's reaction when Jim informed her of what was going on above her head.

"You were right about your radio, it did get a little squashed and I think you must have slid a little ways after you landed too, the door of the battery compartment and a couple of bits of circuit board have gotten stuck to your jeans and might have gone through into you also. I think I can pull them out, Sir, if that's OK with you and then I'm going to need to take a look underneath your pants, I think they'll only need to come down a little bit, but I, err... Anyway pulling those bits of radio out might hurt a bit, especially if just moving around has been so painful for you." The hesitancy and the return to addressing Grissom as 'Sir' betrayed David's nervousness at having to deal with such a personal part of his respected colleague's anatomy.

"It's OK, David, I trust you. If it helps don't think of me as Gil Grissom, just pretend I'm a DB you're pulling some bits of evidence out of."

"Thanks, Sir, I'll try, but with the patients I usually deal with I don't have to worry about hurting them or making them bleed too much."

"Yes, well, I'm tougher than I probably look from the angle you're currently seeing me and, unless I've forgotten my anatomy, there are no major arteries in the spot you're looking at right now either. You won't do me any more damage than I've done to myself already, so let's get this over with, OK?"

David's touch was as delicate as he'd expected, but Grissom was still glad that the coroner's assistant was behind him and Brass otherwise occupied so that no-one would notice the grimaces he was making in order to stop himself from crying out. His tenderness made him realise that it was important to check out what was causing him to be sorer than the few bits of debris that had penetrated his pants would explain, so he was more resigned and prepared for the situation than David seemed to be by the time they were ready to proceed to the next stage.

Pushing himself up on one elbow so that he could undo his belt and fly enabling David to gently manoeuvre his jeans down and reveal the damage sustained by his backside, Grissom was finally able to get a good look at the position in which he'd ended up. He now realised that somehow in his spiral path out from where his equipment marked the well camouflaged hole in the ground he'd gotten himself turned around and had been taking a route back to his case that would have directly crossed the opening. If he'd been a matter of inches closer when he slipped he might have fallen through. His physical bulk would probably have stopped him going all the way down the hole but their DB, Kate Barlow, was far more petite. In the dark of last night had she got even closer before, like him, she had lost her footing on the loose grit and had she tumbled through like Alice down the rabbit hole? If she had then her injuries had clearly not been immediately fatal or even very disabling, because Kate had apparently been trying to climb back out of the hole, unaware that there was a ground level exit just feet away. The effort or movement involved in the ascent might then have aggravated some hidden injury, resulting in Kate's death. It was a viable hypothesis for an accidental death, but somehow Grissom felt dissatisfied, he just needed to put a finger on why and come up with something that might either prove or disprove his theory.

But not right now. Grissom's eyes widened, clearly David had taken his suggestion that he imagine Grissom was a DB a little too much to heart and forgotten that with a living patient it was helpful to give a warning before starting to clean a wound. That antiseptic stung!

David stopped working instantly at Grissom's stifled gasp, but the injured CSI insisted he continue the wound would have to be cleaned up in order to asses it. As soon as David was done with that Grissom asked him to report.

"It's just an, err, soft tissue injury. You'll have a unique pattern of bruising and maybe an interesting weave design scar," David's enthusiasm for discovering how the body reacted to being damaged overcame him for a moment before he realised that he was talking to Grissom about his own body, not discussing a case over a mortuary slab, "not that anyone will get to see it of course, I mean, not unless you... err. Well, anyway, your jeans seem to have kept the worst of the dirt out and stopped nearly every layer of your dermis being turned completely into uncooked hamburger," he said in a voice that the flesh was pretty raw even so, "it's lucky you were wearing them."

"So Jim can call and cancel my transport to hospital."

"Well, I suppose I could dress it, but, you know your jeans did get cut through in a couple of places, you should really have the wound checked over more closely for foreign bodies and then dressed properly."

"So you do it."

There was an uncertain pause.

"There's an illuminated magnifier in my kit, use that. I know you've got a light touch and an eye for detail and we've gotten this far without anaesthetic. Do your best then stick a thick bandage over the top, I'm up to date with my shots," he had to be in his job, "and I promise to see my own doctor if there are any signs of infection later."

Because Jim was now walking back towards him, Grissom asked him to grab the large aluminium case which held his kit and bring it over with him.

"I know you're a top grade CSI, Gil, but I'm surprised that even you would be trying to collect evidence while lying in that position." Brass sounded like he was joking, but looked as though he half thought his words might turn out to be true.

"Actually the kit's for David."

"You have evidence stuck to your hiney?"

"Like you just said, even my evidence gathering powers don't extend that far. David's going to borrow my magnifier so he can clean and dress my wound properly instead of just doing an emergency patch up. Apparently all I've gotten is a glorified scrape in a place that's a bit more awkward than my knee, so you can call off those EMTs before they get any further out of town and get them back on call for some genuine emergency."

"Would you agree with that?" Brass looked to David for confirmation.

David, now peering at Grissom's behind through the large illuminated lens, nodded distractedly.

"I think I can patch him up well enough for now, and I'm sure Doctor Grissom is more aware than most of what symptoms he should look out for and see his own doctor about if they happen, but he'll be pretty sore moving or sitting for a while, so maybe an ambulance would be the best way of getting him back to Vegas."

It took Grissom a moment to give his response to this suggestion, because David was now using a pair of sterile, disposable forceps from his first aid kit to extract a tiny piece of grit from Grissom's raw flesh. Once he'd finished wincing he spoke.

"I'm not using an ambulance as a cab service. I'm sure we can figure a way of getting me comfortable in my CSI van, and it is your turn to drive us back, Jim. If that doesn't work then I'll hitch a lift with David in the Coroner's van, I could lie on the gurney in there if necessary, couldn't I David?"

"I guess so," David didn't sound so sure, "I suppose we are going to be driving back empty, we're just hanging around waiting for now, when I finally got through to the Doc he accepted our decision for the DB to stay where she is right now, but she's the responsibility of the coroner's department from now 'til she's released to her family, so someone from the department needs to keep an eye on her at all times, I'm just waiting for some day shift guys to relieve me and my team."

"OK, I'll cancel the bus if you're both sure it's not needed for medical purposes," Brass decided, remembering the frustrations of non-urgent 'emergency' call-outs from his days as a uniformed officer, "we'll figure out your transport arrangements after David's done and we've got you up on your feet. I can probably be ready to leave fairly quickly; I'll just need to brief the baby-sitters who'll be keeping an eye on things until tonight."

"I'll need to brief Sara too," Grissom said, "there are a couple of things I wanted to do before leaving and she'll need to get the evidence we've found back to the lab and processing underway, something I told her I'd take care of." Grissom sighed, yet another reason for Sara to get annoyed, not something he wanted to deal with right now.

"Speaking of Sara," said Brass, slowly and a little reluctantly, "she's on her way up here."

Grissom looked alarmed; thankfully his boxers were loose enough that David was managing to treat him without having lowered them as well as his jeans, but that didn't mean he wanted Sara to see him like this. There were already times when it was difficult to get Sara to respect his position as shift leader without her having caught him literally with his pants down.

Brass seemed contrite. "I did try and dissuade her," apparently Grissom's wasn't the only authority Sara was prepared to ignore, "but the best I could do was to delay her by asking her to fetch some coveralls for you to change into, your pants are pretty messed up and I figured they'd be looser and more comfortable for you to wear." Looking at Grissom's expression Brass took pity on him. "I'll try to head her off at the pass." He said before heading back towards the path Sara would probably take.

All Grissom could do was close his eyes and hope that David would finish up soon.


	8. Chapter 7

**Sky & Microscope**

Disclaimer: CSI: Crime Scene Investigation belongs to someone else entirely.

**Chapter 7**

As soon as Grissom saw his office chair he instantly knew that the story of what had happened the previous night had already permeated through the lab. Unfortunately the circular inflatable haemorrhoid cushion, however amusing someone must have found it, wouldn't actually be any help, because the strategically placed hole wasn't located anywhere that would be useful to him.

After his uncomfortable journey back home as a captive audience for Brass' comedy routines he'd been ready for some jokes at his expense, but he had hoped he'd have a little longer to brace himself before facing the onslaught, especially as he'd arrived at work even earlier than was usual for him because he'd taken the bus, not his usual choice of transport, but at least he'd been able to travel standing up, even if the driver had looked at him a little oddly when he had done so while there were still some seats available.

He couldn't put it off any longer, taking a deep breath and making sure that he was walking as normally as possible, Grissom headed off to the break room to hand out the night's assignments. Normally this routine start to the shift was a casual event; Grissom would wander in to find his team in various poses as they sampled their first coffees of the evening. Once they became aware of his presence the team would gather around him and receive their slips individually or in pairs before heading off to begin their work. Only on those occasions when the group was jointly investigating a single large case did they bother to formally gather around a table at the commencement of shift to discuss the case and who was doing what in the investigation. All the same, Grissom shouldn't have been surprised when he walked into the room to be faced with all of his CSIs, plus Greg whose presence at such gatherings had become increasingly frequent as part of his campaign to become a field CSI, sitting expectantly at the table, the remaining spare chair pulled out invitingly.

Grissom raised a querying eyebrow; he wanted to hear whatever excuse had been invented to justify this kind of meeting. Catherine just smiled at him sweetly.

"We thought that, as you were out of contact yesterday and didn't manage to get back to the lab before the end of shift, you'd appreciate a brief outline of what went on while you weren't here."

"Yeah, we thought you'd want to know if any of us were a little behind."

"Actually, some of have already gotten to the bottom of our cases."

"And I'll soon have seen the backside of mine."

"I was going to ask if you'd help me with one of my experiments, but I'll understand f you think it's a bit of a cheek."

The team had all started with straight faces, but as the comments continued and the jokes became more blatant (or strained, depending on your point of view), they began to grin more and more widely.

Suddenly Grissom brought his fist down hard on the table making most of his staff jump.

"That's it. I refuse to be the butt of any more of your infantile humour," he almost bellowed. Grissom glared around the table until every expression showed anxiety at his reaction before smiling suddenly and revealing that his own pun had been perfectly intentional. In some ways he had been tempted to let them continue so that he could find out just how long they could keep up the flow of innuendo without breaking out with laughter or the jokes became so obvious that he could no longer pretend to ignore them.

"OK," he continued in a calmer voice as he casually (at least that's how he hoped it would look) perched on the corner of the table. "I know my little mishap yesterday was a comic opportunity almost too good to miss, but we do have some serious work to do tonight, so now I'm going to hand out your assignments so that you can all get off your undamaged backsides and get going."

With that Grissom proceeded to pass out everyone's job slips while Greg slipped quietly away back to the safety of the DNA lab. The old routine reasserted itself quickly, with Grissom making a brief verbal check with each team member so he knew that everyone was where he thought they would be with their caseloads. With minor cases t was normal for the CSIs to be juggling several at once, criminals didn't wait in line for investigators to finish up with one case before getting on with whatever felonies they might have planned. Evidence collecting and preservation always took precedence followed by a complex juggling act between making sure information was provided for detectives while their investigations are still fresh and ongoing and that the DA's office was getting everything it needed to obtain safe convictions in solved cases. Because of this Grissom was often able to send his team out to new crime scenes at the start of shift and then give them more detailed priorities once they got back to the lab. Even so, when he handed Sara her own new crime scene to set off for she seemed a little surprised.

"I thought we'd be going back out to Red Rock tonight. Even if this is as straightforward as it looks there won't be time for me to finish up and then get to the Star Party site and back before the end of this shift, let alone do any actual work."

"I appreciate that Sara, but as I'm not really fit to be out in the field tonight, Jim Brass and I decided to work the case from here for now. I'll see which results have come in so far and what can be extrapolated from them and then Jim's going to come over so I can 'translate the geek speak' in the statements for him.

"I can manage all of that on my own so it makes more sense for you to be out gathering evidence for this new case." He paused, waiting for Sara to accept his decision, but when she made no move he continued. "We're going to set up evidence room one to give an overview of the case if you want to check up on us later, although I'm confident that your notes will be as good as always and give me everything I need. By tomorrow night Kate Barlow's body should be out of rigor and on its way to the morgue leaving the site open for further investigation; that's when a return visit will be worthwhile." Grissom stopped again, hoping that he'd said enough to convince Sara to do the job he was asking her to, he wasn't the sort of person who expected to lead his team just by being 'the boss' but because the people in it respected his ability to make good decisions and so he was always prepared to justify those decisions if necessary, but sometimes Sara seemed in the mood to just keep pushing and he really didn't want to have to pull rank right now, he had enough to cope with from the genuine pain in his backside, without having to deal with a metaphorical one as well. With the possible exception of Catherine, Sara in a bad mood could be the least subordinate of his team, a group not exactly known for its conformity. Fortunately Sara seemed to be calmer than she had been the previous night and appeared content with his decision to send her out on the new case now that he'd explained his reasoning.

"Just so long as I know you aren't dropping me from the Barlow case because you're embarrassed about last night, or punishing me because you think it was me who told the rest of the team" she said, taking the slip of paper from his hand with a smile and heading off to gather her equipment before he could think of any response to her words.

Alone again at last, Grissom didn't bother to hide his wince when he slid his uninjured cheek off the edge of the table and headed back to his office.

A couple of hours later Grissom had finished updating himself thoroughly with his team's progress over the previous shift and completed his usual rounds of the various labs, collecting the results from the tests performed on the evidence from the canyon that Sara had brought back to the lab for him as he did so. Although he'd done most of his reading while reclined Roman style on his office couch, not being able to sit comfortably was already wearing him down and obviously it was showing in his face because even the female lab techs who made a point of teasing him whenever they had an excuse had taken one look at his expression and kept their jokes to themselves, which was a relief because even though people seemed to think that because his injury was 'just a graze' it was OK to laugh about it, the depth of the abrasion was such that it felt as if the nerve endings normally protected by the top layers of skin had all been exposed and every movement set them firing and producing painful jolts. Even so, Grissom really didn't want to upset anyone by snapping them when really they were only trying to contribute to the relaxed atmosphere which he usually liked his shift to have because it helped pass the long hours of the graveyard shift more easily.

Setting Kate Barlow's case file on the layout room table next to the box of evidence he'd arranged to have brought up for him earlier, Grissom prepared to delve into the case.

Grissom had managed to obtain an overhead photograph of the site where Kate had died. A blown up version was now spread out on the illuminated table with a transparency showing the landscape's contours on the same scale laid over the top. Now he added another transparent layer and began to use coloured markers to transfer over the data he'd gathered from searching the plateau above Kate Barlow's temporary grave. Glancing at the small area near the centre that was hashed out in red to represent the zone contaminated by his fall he just hoped that he'd accurately marked everything and that the confusion which had nearly resulted in him falling through the crevice above the body had only arisen at the end of his survey.

"Well padded I see."

Grissom looked around to see that Jim Brass had entered the room through the door directly behind him. At his friend's confused frown Jim nodded vaguely at Grissom's rear. "It's nice to see that you're making good use of those extra large non-stick dressing pads that you made me stop off for on the way home this morning."

Grissom straightened up from his bent position with a grimace, it hadn't occurred to him that leaning over the table the way that he had been doing would make the thick layer of padding he'd taped in place over the large graze visible through the fabric of his pants.

"Not a laughing matter, huh?" Jim said; coming forward and transferring the folder he'd been carrying under his arm onto the table beside Grissom's map. "Maybe this lot will help keep your mind off things. Some of the statements in there get a bit technical so maybe you'll be better at spotting any holes in them than my men would be.

"Oh-Kay," agreed Grissom, the word drawn out longer than normal as he stretched his back before reaching for yet another layer of transparency, "we may as well get some of these people's supposed locations onto the map as well while we're at it."

"How about you let me do that," Jim offered, hooking one of the wheeled chairs in the room and moving it into the spot where Grissom had been standing, "there's no point you adding a stiff back to your ills."

"Thanks," Grissom accepted the offer briefly but gratefully. He stretched a little more while Brass settled himself and opened the file, and then perched on the corner of the table, the best way he had come up with to take the weight off his feet for a few minutes, although it probably wouldn't feel very comfortable for very long.

"So what have you got for me?"

"Our potential suspects fall loosely into three different groups," Jim told him, getting down to business, "the easiest two to deal with are the ones who spent the whole night with the main group of astronomers at that place we saw with all the equipment set up; and the group, mainly made up of less interested partners, who were in a sort of mess tent back at the camp site socialising and making sure there was a regular supply of hot food and drink available; those people all back up each others' statements, but then there are these others." Jim paused and pushed a thin set of papers toward his friend. "They're the ones who were separated from the rest and don't have clear alibis. Some even admit to being up on the mesa or off in the direction of the lower level entrance to our vic's current home. A couple of them say that they were asleep in their tents, which I suppose we'd find hard to prove either way, but in my experience it's not usually those without a good story we need to worry about the most."

Grissom nodded his understanding; suspects with a guilty conscience normally went to the trouble of constructing a better story than just being asleep alone at the time the crime occurred. He picked up the small stack of statements and began to flick through them.

"So, I suppose that most of the people who were off on their own claim that they moved away from the group for some reason connected to astronomy, which is why they are at the Star Party in the first place, and you want me to check if those stories ring true."

"Yeah, as always when it comes to esoteric knowledge you're our secret weapon. If anyone has been lazy with their explanation because they figured the cop they were talking to wouldn't know their ass from Uranus then I expect you'll be able to spot it."

Grissom rolled his eyes although even he wasn't sure whether it was at the weakness of Brass' joke or just because the word 'ass' seemed to have cropped up more often in the last twenty-four hours than it did in most of the Old Testament.

"All right," he sighed resignedly, "let me take a look."

**A/N** Sorry that this is a shorter chapter than normal for me, RL has been conspiring to throw one thing after another to disturb my equilibrium and get me down even more than usual and in the end I thought it was better to finish and post this chapter now than to extend it and not get around to publishing it until who knows when.


	9. Not a chapter, an apology instead

As I'm sure you've all noticed it has been a very long time since I updated this story. I have to admit to struggling with this story from the start and ongoing health and family problems have conspired against me, resulting in a major lack of inspiration and a real case of writer's block. Unfortunately these circumstances don't look like changing in the foreseeable future so, after a great deal of soul searching I have regretfully had to make the decision to suspend writing this story indefinitely.

I am sorry to disappoint you, I always promised myself that I wouldn't be one of those people who leave a story half finished and the feelings I expressed in my first author's note of this story still hold true. I won't be disappearing from this site entirely though, I'll still be reading and reviewing and, should inspiration strike, I'll write too, maybe even returning to this story one day.

I'd like to take this opportunity to thank everyone who has shown their support with reviews and PMs, they have always been much appreciated.

Moonstarer.


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